The Paradise Will (29 page)

‘But surely you don’t plan to travel alone?’

‘Oh no! Melly will accompany me until I reach London.’ She regarded him from under her lashes. ‘Will you be returning?’

‘I was planning to do so within the month, dependent on your plans. I could not impose on the Westwoods’ hospitality any longer so I’m putting up at The Antelope, but if you are leaving soon, I will too! I’ll escort you on the journey if you’ll have me, but, damn it all, Letty, how am I to bear it when those town bucks start chasing you?’ protested Piers unhappily, with an entreating look. ‘I’ll be mad with jealousy! They’ll flock to your side while I’ll struggle to exchange two words with you during the whole Season. Unlike Melly, your aunt is most likely a Gorgon who won’t allow me anywhere near.’

She asked insouciantly, ‘Do you think I’ll have plenty of admirers then?’

‘Undoubtedly,’ he replied, through gritted teeth.

‘Oh. I will enjoy that,’ said she, in a blithe tone. ‘It would be dreadfully
mortifying
if I did not
take
.’ Letty was silent for a moment before prompting, ‘Piers?’

‘Hmm?’ He was abstracted, a frown of misery marring his brow.

‘My aunt is not a Gorgon; she is a young matron with an array of children ranging from six years to six months, and her chaperoning of me will be careful but not stifling. She will encourage me to sample many of the entertainments on offer.’

‘Well, perhaps it may not be as bad as I thought, but it will still be deuced hard after the time we have spent together this summer,’ he grumbled, idly plucking daises out of the grass. ‘When shall I see you?’

‘Well, I
have
always wanted to go to the opera. Would you take me while we are in London, please?’ said Letty.

At the warm husky note suddenly present in her voice, he looked up sharply. ‘I’ll reserve a box,’ he murmured, meeting her gaze.

‘And the theatre?’

‘I’ll book a box there too.’

‘I would like to see the Tower of London.’

‘Been meaning to go myself for years,’ he said, grasping her gently by the shoulders.

‘Vauxhall Gardens?’ she suggested, with twinkling eyes.

‘Full of rakes – so I’ll escort you to the fireworks.’

‘And the Pantheon Bazaar….’

He swallowed hard but recovered quickly and said with admirable fortitude, ‘Very well, the Pantheon Bazaar it is. I’ve heard it is excellent for shopping and I’d be glad to take you.’

Her lip quivered with amusement. ‘One more thing, Piers.’

‘Lord,
please
don’t ask me to accompany you to Bullock’s Museum!’ he begged, rolling his eyes in anguish. ‘I’m besotted with you, but a man must draw the line somewhere.’

‘I wasn’t going to ask that.’

‘Oh? What then?’

‘Only that I’d like you to take me to a wedding, perhaps in May,’ she said, softly.

There was silence until his face lit up with a slow grin.
‘Letty! Darling!
Does that mean—?’

‘Yes,’ she interposed, and added with a ripple of laughter, ‘but you had better ask for my hand
after
taking me shopping – you might change your mind in view of that experience.’

‘Never! You
know
I love you!’ replied Piers, pulling her into his arms and muttering thickly before he kissed her, ‘Deuce take it, I’m not letting those London bucks near you!’

Letty, who considered Piers had been transformed to a man fully aware of his responsibilities if he was willing to accompany her on a shopping expedition without complaint, welcomed his embrace eagerly.

Later that month in London, shortly before three o’clock on a Wednesday
afternoon
, there was a knock at the door of Mr Bartley’s office.

‘Enter,’ said he, absently, not raising his eyes from the paper he was perusing.

His new clerk scurried in and announced, ‘Sir Giles and Lady Maxton are here to see you, sir.’

‘I don’t believe I heard you correctly, Smith,’ said Mr Bartley, looking over his spectacles at the young man. ‘Surely you did not say Sir Giles
and
Lady Maxton?’

‘Indeed I did, sir; he and his wife are waiting in the outer office.’

Mr Bartley stared in blank astonishment. ‘Bless my soul, I had no idea Sir Giles had married!’ he exclaimed. Thrown into confusion, he shuffled through the paperwork on his desk, rapidly scanning several documents before shaking his head and saying, ‘It is as I thought: Mr Forde made no mention of this in his letters.’ He paused a moment to reflect on the significance of this information and then asked, ‘Has Miss Paradise arrived?’

‘No, sir,’ said his clerk, ‘only Sir Giles and his wife.’

Mr Bartley sighed. ‘What a pity she is not here yet. This may prove even more difficult than I anticipated.’ Leaning back in his chair, he removed his spectacles and placed them on the desk. Closing his eyes, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he paused in thought. He had not forgotten his last interview with Sir Giles and Miss Paradise. In view of the tense, strained atmosphere he witnessed then, it was probable Miss Paradise would object to Lady Maxton’s presence since she was not directly involved. However, Sir Giles would also be displeased if he was kept waiting, and it would certainly not be politic to suggest excluding his wife. Mr Bartley opened his eyes to glance at the clock; the appointed time had arrived and it seemed he had no option other than to continue.

‘Well, Smith,’ he said, ‘this is most irregular. I suppose you must show Sir Giles and Lady Maxton in since we cannot keep them waiting in the outer office. However, you must advise me the instant Miss Paradise arrives.’ He shook his finger at the clerk, adding, ‘On the instant, mind! I do not want Miss Paradise to feel slighted in any way.’

‘Very good, sir.’ The clerk left, closing the door behind him.

Mr Bartley stood up and walked around his desk. He paused to straighten his jacket and cravat using the small mirror on the wall and, pursing his lips, prepared to discharge his duty as General Paradise’s executor in as efficient a manner as possible, well aware he might need to negotiate a path through this potentially volatile meeting.

A moment later, the door opened again to admit his visitors.

‘Good afternoon, Sir Giles,’ said Mr Bartley, extending his hand in greeting. ‘I’m afraid Miss Paradise has not arrived yet.’

Gil returned his handshake. ‘I see. Do you expect her soon?’

‘Yes, imminently. You are well, I trust?’

‘Exceedingly, thank you,’ replied Gil, smiling.

The lawyer looked at him in surprise. Sir Giles’s smile was genuine; indeed it was more than a smile, he was positively grinning. Obviously he was in a
propitious
mood and Mr Bartley wondered hopefully if he need not be so concerned after all.

‘Do sit down,’ he said, waving to the chairs in front of his desk.

‘Thank you, but first I wish to introduce my wife, Mr Bartley,’ said Gil, the corner of his mouth twitching as he stepped aside.

Despite years of schooling his features into an expression of detachment, whatever his inner emotions, Mr Bartley failed markedly on this occasion. His jaw dropped and his eyes almost started from their sockets when he saw Lady Maxton was in fact the young woman he knew as Miss Alyssa Paradise.

‘Good Lord!’ he cried, involuntarily. Then, looking from one to the other, he stammered, ‘I-I did not know – that is, I did not realize Miss Paradise and Lady Maxton were one and the same person!’

‘Oh dear, you must forgive us for not sending you word of our marriage, Mr Bartley,’ said Alyssa. Her eyes danced with amusement but they also held a hint of compassion for his astonishment. ‘You see, we asked Mr Forde not to give our secret away because we could not resist the temptation to tell you in person.’

‘Now I understand why he made no mention of Sir Giles’s marriage,’ said Mr Bartley, still staring. ‘I am shocked, not least because the last time you were here, relations were slightly – er – awkward between you.’

‘They were, weren’t they?’ said Gil, laughing. ‘But, as you see, things have changed dramatically.’

Mr Bartley watched as Sir Giles reached out, took his wife’s hand and bestowed on her a look of such passionate regard that the lawyer blinked in amazement; Lady Maxton, a flush rising to her cheeks, responded with a
delightful
smile. From the evidence of this swift but revealing exchange, they were very much in love.

‘Good Lord!’ he murmured again, his eyebrows almost reaching his receding hairline. ‘I hardly know what to say, or where to begin.’ He cleared his throat as he struggled to regain his composure. ‘Please – I must beg your pardon for not offering my heartiest congratulations at once.’

‘Thank you,’ said Alyssa, warmly, ‘but there is no need to apologize; your astonishment is perfectly understandable.’

‘Yes, perfectly,’ repeated her husband, with a disarming twinkle, ‘when you consider the atmosphere that surrounded our previous visit.’

Mr Bartley smiled in agreement and with great relief, sank on to his chair, his poise and gravitas slowly returning. ‘So, meeting the terms of your uncle’s will was not as difficult a task as you originally envisaged, Miss Par— I mean Lady Maxton?’ he asked, with interest.

Alyssa, who had already taken her seat beside Gil, admitted, ‘No, indeed. Uncle Tom’s will has led to happiness I could never have foreseen.’

‘I see,’ said the lawyer. ‘An unexpected turn of events on the face of it, and yet perhaps the general had something of this nature in mind. The will was
obviously
designed to ensure you spent time in each other’s company.’

‘You might be able to help on that point, Mr Bartley. You said Uncle Tom had left two letters for me, and I have been intrigued from the very start as to their content.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course, my dear Lady Maxton,’ he said, replacing his spectacles. ‘I have them amongst my papers, and will give them to you directly. Would you both be so kind as to complete a few legal formalities first?’

After several minutes, when all the necessary documents had been signed and dated to his satisfaction, he found the two sealed letters.

‘Your marriage has no effect on the will,’ he explained. ‘You have met the terms laid down and are therefore beneficiaries as per the general’s stipulations. Lady Maxton, I should also tell you that I have asked Mr Kilworth to call later this afternoon. Your uncle arranged for investments in Mr Kilworth’s name to be made available to him at the end of the six-month period but instructed me not to disclose any details until then.’

‘So Tom did leave Piers something after all,’ mused Gil.

He nodded. ‘In addition to his annuity, Lady Maxton’s cousin will possess property and investment bonds in his own right which amount to a very respectable value.’

‘That is good news!’ said Alyssa, ‘I’m glad Uncle Tom chose to do so, and he was perceptive to realize Piers would ultimately benefit from waiting.’

‘Quite. Now, these are the two letters your uncle left in my care. This one’ – he lifted the envelope in his right hand a little higher – ‘was to be opened if you failed to meet the terms.’

‘Have you any objection to me reading it now?’ she asked.

‘None whatsoever; I have no instructions to say you may not,’ he replied, passing the letter across the desk.

Alyssa opened the envelope and smoothed out the single sheet.

‘It was written two weeks before his death, Gil,’ she said, indicating the date as she held the letter between them. ‘Would you read it with me?’

‘Of course, if that is what you wish,’ he replied.

‘Dear Uncle Tom,’ said Alyssa, in a constricted voice, looking up from the letter into her husband’s face, ‘He knew us better than we knew ourselves.’

‘Yes, and it seems he knew his nephew’s character well too,’ observed Gil.

She nodded. ‘He realized it might ruin him for good if he inherited wealth overnight. I am pleased he decided to make separate provision for Piers after all. That, along with the monies I shall bestow on him, will ensure he has the means to make a success of his affairs from now on.’

‘The general was an astute man,’ agreed Mr Bartley, his curiosity piqued as to the content of the letter. ‘Would you like to read the second missive now, Lady Maxton? If you will excuse me a moment, I will step into the outer office to collect the documents pertaining to Mr Kilworth.’